Memories of the Dew

Happy moments in life are like dew drops. 

Magical, yet fleeting. 

Charmingly beautiful yet hardly seen.
Through the still darkness of the night.

Do I yearn for the warmth of the sun or the misty morning dew.?

For what are dew drops, if not fleeting?
How is something of beauty if it never ceases to exist? 

As the sun rises and the dew melts and trickles away, should I move on ? 

Do I forget and just walk away ?

Or perhaps this is the way it's meant to be. 

Those dark clouds never really meant to stay.

Those old whistling trees and a wet broken pathway. 

When I looked back, is it perhaps, just me ?

Day and night. Night after day is all alright.
I forget to remember as I shall remember to forget. 

For what stays in life is so precious little, very few. 

All I need, are those memories of the dew. 

Those little memories of the dew.